


Bitter Winter Days, Sweet Winter Nights

by anarchycox



Series: Witcher Bingo Card Prompts [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Geralt/Yennefer - Freeform, Crack, Daddy Kink, Feels, M/M, Sex, They are broken up, Winter At Kaer Morhen, and geralt is not coping well, geralt and jaskier are best friends, jaskier is done with their shit, jaskier parents the wolves, jaskier teaches emotional intelligence, post mountain fight, some and will be a bit different, the kaer morons, vesemir & jaskier co parents of 100 year old men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Geralt got dumped on the mountain top and is so heartbroken that Jaskier (after yelling at him for three days) promises to stick by his side and see him home for winter. 22 years and he has never been to Kaer Morhen, and finds out the reason Geralt kept him away was because he knew that Jaskier would crawl into Vesemir's bed and never leave and that would be awkward to have your best friend and dad fucking.Jaskier takes one look at Vesemir and realizes that Geralt was quite correct in his guess at what would happen.He fully intends to spend the whole winter in Vesemir's bed - but he has to deal with a heartbroken best friend, a recovering from injury Eskel, and Lambert who is...Lambert.A winter of sex, sex, sex and maybe writing a few songs, swiftly and confusingly becomes a winter of teaching the young wolves how to take care of themselves.But at least Vesemir is grateful for what Jaskier is doing and shows him said gratitude in bed.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir
Series: Witcher Bingo Card Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746034
Comments: 51
Kudos: 367





	Bitter Winter Days, Sweet Winter Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaermorons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaermorons/gifts).



> This is for Baby Sitting on my bingo card.
> 
> Warnings in the first chapter for a bit of body horror/slightly graphic description of injury to Eskel.

“What’s the point of anything anymore?” Geralt said. He looked close to sitting. No, he couldn’t sit, then they were fucked, and it had started to snow. “I am unworthy of -”

“Another few steps, Geralt, you can do it!” Jaskier was trying to sound cheerful, but he was fucking exhausted. He had been bolstering Geralt for months but the man was still morose, and a morose witcher apparently didn’t hunt. They had been relying on Jaskier’s ability to earn money, and the more north they went, the less people were interested in throwing money to a bard. They had managed to buy a few bags of grain, and some dried apples, Jaskier proper winter boots, and the bottle of vodka that Jaskier was using to get Geralt to move.

“Lookit the bottle, Geralt, do you see the pretty bottle? Do you see me ready to drop it over the edge of this mountain?” Jaskier glared at him and held the bottle out, ready to let go. “Do you remember how much it cost, Geralt? All the last of our money. This is a better bottle of vodka than you’ve ever had in your long and fucked up life. And if you sit your ass down, I will fucking throw it over the mountain!” Jaskier was yelling and a bunch of pebbles rained down, and there was a clarity to sound. He grinned at Geralt. “Keep moving, or you will learn exactly how loud I can sing,” he warned. “I can bring this whole mountain down on your head. Imagine that Geralt, the world will know my perfect voice was the thing that killed you.” Jaskier’s grin was vicious as Geralt started moving again, and in fact took the lead. 

They climbed ever higher all fucking day, but the snow at least didn’t get worse. They rounded a corner, and for the first time in twenty two years of friendship, Jaskier saw Kaer Morhen. “It’s a shit hole.”

“Hmm,” Geralt swatted him and it was the mostly lively he had been in a long time. “It is better than it looks from the outside. It looking like shit keeps us surprisingly safe.” They kept moving forward, and Jaskier was already composing songs of magical keeps in his mind. He was lost in his thoughts enough that he bumped into Geralt where the man had stopped. “You’re here.”

“Yes?” Jaskier frowned at him. “I am here. For you, always.”

“No, you are here. I swore to myself to never bring you here,” Geralt was looking increasingly panicked.

“Bit rude that, I’m the only reason you made it up that mountain. Left to your own devices you’d be drunk in a bar, writing poems to Yennefer about her purple eyes, rhyming it with _you make my heart burple_.” Jaskier sighed. “Geralt, it is snowing, and I am very tired of carrying your emotional weight, please let us go in there.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt was giving him the saddest eyes ever. “I am so sorry. I know that I am burden, unwanted, unloved as I should be. In fact you should leave me and go back down the mountain.”

Jaskier pursed his lips. “No. If you are scared that I’ll sing of your secrets, I wouldn’t betray you like that.”

“Because you are the truest friend imaginable,” Geralt replied and Jaskier found himself hugged. He didn’t roll his eyes, but it was close. He gave Geralt’s shoulder a pat. 

“Yes, yes, we have achieved true balance and accord in our friendship, and the best way to show that is you taking me into your home, and us sitting and sharing this bottle of vodka. Just a little further, Geralt.” Jaskier needed at least four shots. He had always dreamed of Geralt properly appreciating their friendship, admitting what they both knew was true. And dear melitele, was his fucking regretting that.

“You cannot go in there!” Geralt insisted.

“Why the fuck not, Geralt?” Jaskier was done. “What grand betrayal are you expecting from me? What do you think I will do? Why am I so unwanted?”

“That whore in Kwaedon, 7 years ago. The older soldier who became a whore, the one you spent all our money on?”

“Mmm, yes, fuck he was so good,” Jaskier said. “So?”

“Our swordmaster, our mentor?” Geralt looked pained. “He is a slightly more attractive version of the whore you talked about with reverence for three years.”

Jaskier blinked. “You’ve been holding out on me that there is a sexy older witcher who is my type?”

“To be fair everyone is your type, but based on the general sexual history of yours that I have born witness to - Vesemir is more to your type than most.” Geralt looked a bit sick. “Jaskier, you have to promise me not to fuck the closest I have to a parental figure all winter. You can fuck…Lambert! There you go.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier smiled at him. “Geralt, if it will bother you, of course I won’t fuck this Vesemir, I am sure you are wrong and he isn’t my type. Now Roach needs to be seen to, let’s get her inside.” 

Jaskier followed Geralt into the keep and there was a man in a leather jerkin, cutting firewood. He looked up and smiled when he saw them. “Geralt, you made it back.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier whispered. “Geralt, remember when I said one day, you would make up your stupid as shit comments on the mountain top to me?”

Geralt sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “Yes.”

“You will have to cope with me fucking your father all winter long to make up for it.” He smiled at Geralt. “Fair?”

“No,” Geralt growled. “But you’d be sneaking through the keep to get into his bed within two days and I’d smell him on your and you’d lie and it would just be a mess. Just…make sure I don’t see any kissing, or skin, or thrusting.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jaskier promised, and kept staring at Vesemir. “Because I love you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt moved forward and accepted the hug that Vesemir was offering. “I am glad to be home. I am in rough shape.”

“Griffin? Wyvern? You are never at your best against flying creatures.”

Jaskier watched as Vesemir was clearly checking Geralt for injuries.

“I’ve lost Yennefer, my life carries no meaning, the whole world is grey and I am shadowed in eternal darkness,” Geralt leaned against Vesemir. “I am so glad to be home.”

“I…see,” Vesemir said and Jaskier could tell the poor man was lost. Luckily Jaskier was quite handy with a map.

“Geralt, you need to take care of Roach and put away the dry goods we bought. And after you do that, the bottle of vodka will be waiting on a table in the main hall.” Jaskier assumed there was a table in the main hall. “Just a couple things more to do, and then you can get completely shit faced and stay that way for a week.” He nudged Geralt a bit and then smiled at Vesemir. “Now then, I am sure that Geralt has mentioned me a time or two. I am Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove. Jaskier the master bard, to my friends. You may call me whatever you like,” Jaskier gave a low bow. 

“Lettenhove. Kerack. Cordylia Pankratz any relation?”

“My great grandmother. I am said to take after her a great deal.” Jaskier paused, “A great deal like her.” Fuck, this could be awkward. “Did you know her well?”

Vesemir barked a harsh laugh that made Jaskier shiver a bit. “Not the sort of well you are worried about there. Not for lack of trying on her part though.” Vesemir nodded a bit. “Lambert is already home, Eskel should be soon. Now, not to be too forward but I trust you are bedding down with Geralt?”

“No?” Jaskier frowned. “Unless you don’t have any spare bedrooms?”

“We do, I just figured…” Vesemir’s voice drifted away and he scratched his jaw. “Guess I figured you two were fucking.”

Jaskier appreciated the bluntness. “No, I have of course thought about it, and I love him deeply, but we are friends. Is there perhaps a spare room, near yours?” Jaskier moved a little closer to Vesemir. “Geralt is going to be useless for the next little bit, and it would be a comfort to have someone who knows their way around the keep near by.” Jaskier moved in even closer. “Would you like to help me learn the lay of the land?”

Vesemir took the next step, and they were almost touching. “Well now, the question is do you want the dance bard, or do you just want to take what you want?”

Jaskier breathed in the smell of sweat, and wood, and that thing that he knew could only be witcher. Older, calmer than what poured of Geralt, but that age didn’t dull the sharpness of it, the wolf still had teeth. Jaskier did love the dance, but he also hadn’t fucked anyone in months, not wanting to leave Geralt alone, worried about the man and his broken heart. Jaskier bit his lip and leaned in. “I think I’ll just take what I want.”

“In that case, the best bed in the keep is mine. Shall I show you where it is?”

“Please,” Jaskier drew his nose against Vesemir’s jaw.

“You’ll be saying that word a lot over the next few months.” Vesemir actually still had the ax in his hand and tossed it with a sharp flick of his wrist and it was lodged into the stump he had been cutting wood on. “Let’s go.” He turned and walked away not seeing if Jaskier was following, because the man was clever enough to know that Jaskier absolutely would follow. 

It was going to be an interesting winter.

*

It was going to be a shit winter. He had seen Vesemir shirtless, and it had been an excellent sight, and he had plans for the night. That started with the very large copper bath that had been in the corner of the room. Jaskier already had a half dozen fantasies building in his mind about that tub and the huge bed. But Geralt was clutching the bottle of vodka, and Lambert was needling at him, and fuck he had a vision of what the winter was going to be like.

He tried to get Geralt to eat a little bit, but the man bitched that the potato in the vodka was good enough. 

Vesemir just gave them a disappointed look, but ate his meal in silence. 

Lambert was rude to Geralt, but then they both seemed to freeze, and Vesemir was already moving. Soon they were all in the courtyard, just in time to see Eskel fall off his horse. 

“No!” Geralt shouted, and was at his brother’s side in a moment.

“Lambert, help Geralt carry him in, put him on a table. Jaskier water, towels.” Jaskier had been shown the kitchen earlier and he ran. He grabbed what was said and hurried back to the main hall. They had cut all the armor away from Eskel, and Jaskier could see his intestines. He threw up in his mouth a bit, but he brought the supplies over, wiped clean the man’s face. “Thank you, Jaskier. Go on up to bed.”

“It is early and I can help,” Jaskier protested. He had a long history of patching Geralt up after all. 

Geralt moved in front of Jaskier, put his hands on the bard’s shoulders. “Jaskier, there is poison in there, we can smell it. We will have to do unpleasant things to keep him alive. Trust me, you don’t want to see or smell what we’ll have to do.” 

Jaskier looked at him and nodded. “If you need me to sit up with him, sing to him, you’ll get me.”

“Of course,” Geralt promised. Jaskier stole a glance at Vesemir who gave a nod of agreement, and Jaskier went up to Vesemir’s room. It was a large space with a really nice balcony. He wrapped himself in furs and sat out there for a while, and then the screams began. He had never heard a noise like what Eskel was making below. Jaskier sang to himself, tried to block it out. He lit the fire and stared at the tub. There was an odd spigot in the wall above it. He turned it and watched water flow into the tub. He had seen it in a couple royal palaces, gravity cisterns that fill tubs. He was impressed. There were a couple buckets and he filled a few and let the water warm by the fire. He added them to the tub and settled into the warm water. There was a small chest and there was some simple soap, not the best but not just lye either. So a bit of a win. He scrubbed clean and then just soaked. There were less cries from below which was a relief, but also a worry that maybe Geralt would have even more heartbreak. He did not want that for his friend, he had suffered enough. Jaskier said a few quick prayers. He stayed in until the water was cool, before he stepped out and dried off. Jaskier wasn’t sure what to do about the water so he left it.

Jaskier crawled into bed and dozed never all the way down. When the door opened, he looked blearily up. Vesemir was covered in a lot that he didn’t want to identify. “Is he?” Jaskier couldn’t finish the question.

“He is alive, and he makes it through the night, he’ll stay that way,” Vesemir cast igni on the tub water. Jaskier sat up so he could watch the man strip and settle into the water. “But it will be weeks of recovery the poison was well settled into his system.” Vesemir tilted his head back. “This is going to be a shitty winter. Geralt remembered he has heart, Eskel almost lost half his guts, and Lambert -”

“What happened to him?” 

“Nothing, he’s just goddamn Lambert. Gonna be worse than that winter 38 years ago.” 

Jaskier stood up and went over to the tub, not caring about his nudity. “Bit different.”

“How so?” 

Jaskier picked up the soap and a cloth and began to wash Vesemir. “This time you have me.” It was a pleasure to touch the older man, even if it didn’t seem to be doing anything but soothe the man. Which was fine, he figured Vesemir was here for a break and then going to keep an eye on Eskel. He could make the man feel good, even if fucking was off the table. He took care of Vesemir, and when the man stood, Jaskier dried him off carefully. “What do we do with the water?”

“Buckets over the side of the balcony. Bonus points if you manage to soak Lambert.”

Jaskier laughed at that. “Bed?”

“I have to sit with Eskel in a couple hours.”

“I could take a shift,” Jaskier offered. “I have seen some gross stuff with Geralt you know.”

“His stomach is still currently open, we had to unpack some of his intestines to help his liver. He has to be held open all night so his skin doesn’t try to heal until that is healed.”

Jaskier looked at him in shock. “How are you so casual about a horror like that?”

Vesemir just shrugged. “I’ve had worse. It is the way of the path.”

“How can you just say that?” Jaskier was wondering if he had made a bad choice, because no matter how attractive he found the man, he couldn’t fuck someone for months that had no heart.

“Because one of my last three sons might be dead by morning, and I need to endure for the others,” Vesemir shouted. “Because my heart wants to break and I cannot let it.” He started to dress, to leave and Jaskier touched his shoulder. Touched his jaw.

“I am sorry. I’ll stand your watch with you.”

“You don’t -”

“I don’t,” Jaskier agreed. “I really don’t want to see that. I’ll keep my eyes closed. But you and Geralt need the support. I am really great at supporting heroes. Haven’t you heard my songs?” 

Vesemir nodded. He put on trousers but no shirt. Jaskier watched him sit down and hold out a hand. He went and sat in the man’s lap. “What do you need?” Jaskier asked and Vesemir was quiet, his hands just stroking Jaskier, learning the feel of him. Vesemir pressed his nose against Jaskier’s neck, breathed in. They stayed like that for a bit before Vesemir nodded and they both dressed. They went to where Eskel was and when Vesemir told him to, Jaskier closed his eyes.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice could be heard.

“This is for us to stand guard, not him,” Lambert protested.

“He wanted to help, there are few who would do so for us,” Vesemir snapped.

Jaskier felt Geralt’s hands on his shoulders, guiding him. “Here, by his head. Stroke his hair, sing to him? It always helps me when it is a bad injury.”

“You never said that before,” Jaskier smiled a bit.

“A lot I never said before.” Geralt kissed the top of his head. “Fixing that. I want to fix everything.”

“Knew you loved the bard. How come he’s shacked up in Vesemir’s room? Or do we all get to fuck him?” There was a thump and a thud that Jaskier heard. “Ow, fine!” Lambert muttered. “I’ll just ignore the weird ass dynamics in Kaer Morhen. AGAIN.”

Jaskier snorted a bit, because he highly doubted Lambert ever ignored anything ever, but rather complained loudly. Jaskier began to touch the hair under his head and sang soft songs, lullabies where heroes always save the day and make it home. Songs of promise and hope. Eskel was clearly under some sort of magic. Axii he realized when he heard Geralt cast it, telling him he wanted to sleep more. All of them were casting it. Jaskier was getting brushes of it, and wanted to nod off but they needed him. He pushed past the magic crackling in the air and kept singing, humming when he needed a bit of a rest. Geralt pressed a mug of water into his hands, and he didn’t comment when he heard Lambert praying. 

When Vesemir said it was time, he heard noises he didn’t particularly want to hear ever again, and sang loudly to drown it out. Jaskier sang until he fell asleep. When he awoke someone was poking his face. He swatted the hand away. “Geralt, go annoy Roach,” he whined, “Five more minutes.”

“You need a bed,” a voice said and it was not one he recognized. 

Jaskier opened his eyes, “You’re alive. Are your guts inside you?”

“They are,” Eskel gave a pained smile. “Almost back to one piece. I heard you singing. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Jaskier sat up and groaned as several bones cracked and popped. “What do you need?”

“You to go get proper rest,” Eskel suggested. “Lambert has an eye, I don’t need a death watch.”

“I’m not looking after you, I just happen to be making bombs near you.”

Jaskier saw that he hadn’t made much progress on those bombs, his gaze steady on Eskel, changing the bandages on his stomach. “I can help,” Jaskier insisted.

“You can,” Eskel agreed. “By getting Vesemir to rest with you?”

Jaskier looked over and the man in question did look haggard. “I can do that,” Jaskier agreed. He went over to Vesemir. “I’m still very tired,” he smiled. “So tired I don’t think I remember the way to your room. Could you show me?”

Vesemir was clearly torn, between needing rest and staying with Eskel. “You’d be in my fucking way, old man,” Lambert growled.

Vesemir slumped a bit and nodded. “I’ll show you,” he said to Jaskier and Jaskier looked at Lambert before his gaze returned to Vesemir. 

So, Geralt’s lack of emotional intelligence just wasn’t that the muscles blocked blood flow to the brain and made him an idiot. Clearly this was a mutagen thing. 

They walked through the halls and at the bedroom, the last of Vesemir’s strength seemed to just disappear. “I thought he was -”

“He didn’t,” Jaskier said. “It looks like he will recover.” He undressed Vesemir, then himself before he ushered them into bed. “It will be fine.”

Vesemir made a grunt sound that Jaskier had heard from Geralt a million times over the years. He realized Geralt knowingly or unknowingly had patterned a vocal tic after his father. It was adorable, and he was absolutely going to bug Geralt about it another day. “You need sleep.”

“So do you.”

“My brain is racing,” Jaskier replied. “And I was out for what, a couple hours? I need something to distract me.”

“How about you suck my cock?” Vesemir suggested, “And after I come and fall asleep, you stay there as my cock warmer, until you fall asleep as well?”

Jaskier blinked. “Well now, that is an excellent suggestion, to break the tension we are both carrying.”

“I should tell you something,” Vesemir said.

“Is it important context for giving you a blow job, weird witcher anatomy thing?” Jaskier teased. “Does your come taste like death?” He enjoyed the huff and eye roll that received. “No really, I know a lot about Geralt, but he never shared any witcher sex secrets. I’m ready.” He settled on top of Vesemir, propped his chin up on his hands. It was perhaps wrong to tease about sex after the vigil that had just happened, but Vesemir could use the distraction, and so could he. “I bet you howl when you come.”

“That you’ll find out soon enough. We needed a lot of potions, last night,” Vesemir was playing with his hair and it felt really good, almost distracted him. “We had to dip into our reserves and use alternate suspension liquids for the potions.”

“Sure?” Jaskier was confused. “What does that have to do with me sucking your dick?”

“Nothing, but it means that we have enough oil for maybe three fucks the whole winter.”

Jaskier froze. “You mean there was only enough left for three fucks a night?” Vesemir shook his head. “A week?” Jaskier felt faint. There was another head shake. “A month, dear melitele and all sex gods, please let it be a month and that is bad enough.”

“Kitten, we can maybe stretch it to four fucks.”

Jaskier frowned at him. “Kitten?”

“Always wanted a kitten, and they tend to hate us,” Vesemir was watching him. “Mind?”

“No,” Jaskier said after a moment. “I like it. I had such plans for you,” he wasn’t whining, because the oil saved Eskel’s life and his getting fucked mattered a whole lot less than a witcher’s life.

“Geralt has mentioned how creative you are, your songs span the whole continent, you’re telling me that you aren’t up for that sort of challenge?” There was a fire in Vesemir’s eyes that made Jaskier’s toes curl. “You really can’t think of all the interesting things we might do this winter? Kitten, you disappoint me.”

Jaskier bit a nipple, and then laved the teeth marks away. “I am absolutely up for the challenge.” He glared a little. How dare someone suggest that he couldn’t get creative in bed.

“Show me,” Vesemir said and gently nudged him down. “Help me sleep, Jaskier.”

Jaskier slipped down the bed and sucked Vesemir’s cock until the witcher was hard, and then he showed the man just how amazing he was at this. Vesemir felt so good on his tongue, and when he flooded Jaskier’s mouth, he didn’t taste like anything weird, just come. He kept the cock in his mouth as it softened, as he heard Vesemir’s breathing change, until he fell asleep dreaming of just how creative they would be this winter.


End file.
